


Get This Feeling Deep Inside

by thegirlthatisclumsy



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, Comfort, Cookies, Fluff, M/M, Overeating, Tummyaches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2012-11-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:38:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlthatisclumsy/pseuds/thegirlthatisclumsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought we went over this two months ago.”</p><p>A fic wherein Clint has not learned his lesson about eating treats.  Or challenging demi-gods to eating contests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get This Feeling Deep Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Submission for Feelstide 2012 - Prompt #55: Eating enough candy canes/satsumas/cookies to make yourself sick

“I thought we went over this two months ago.”

The answering groan was almost enough to push the displeased frown from Phil's face. Almost. He sighed and looked at the disaster the Tower's main kitchen currently was. He looked at the frosting smeared counters, the chocolate stained walls, and the overabundance of sprinkles that crunched underfoot. “Halloween, October 31st, I recall we had a conversation about overeating and overdoing the sugar.”

“Not my fault,” Clint muttered and opened his left eye. The right eye was dyed a greenish brown that Phil really hoped was from food coloring and not something that Clint had caught in the last attack from some alien shenanigans. “Thor was in here.”

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He reminded himself that he loved his husband. He adored spending his life with his significant other. He treasured all the hours and moments spent together. It was hard to remember these things when he knew that he'd be the one rubbing a sore stomach and fetching antacid tablets in the foreseeable future.

“You didn't challenge him again, did you?”

The answering silence was enough to make Phil's head ache.

“You don't bring a knife to a gunfight and you don't challenge alien gods to eating contests. You won't win,” Phil wondered if he should get that in memo format. Or perhaps on a needlepoint on a pillow.

A pillow he could hit Clint in the face with.

“I'm sorry,” the reply was so pitiful that Phil had to smile.

“No more cookies or candies or -.”

“Satsumas. No more citrus,” Clint made a gagging noise and Phil noted the table piled high with orange peels. Those remains were almost hidden behind the desiccated remains of beheaded gingerbread men and a half eaten gingerbread housing community. “Never again.”

Phil had heard that before. “Come on, super soldier spy. I'll find you some ginger ale and get the hot water bottle.”

Clint grunted and tugged Phil over, sticky fingers wrapped around his wrist. “I love you. I love you more because you won't divorce me for this, right?” There was a smile, but it wavered on the edges. 

Phil knew there were still times when Clint questioned just what brought and kept the two of them together. He could slice and dice the psychoanalytic issues, but while the whys were important, the actions were just as important. 

Phil kissed his forehead and smiled. “Nah. Though if you eat yourself sick on Valentine's Day I might consider a legal separation till Easter. If I never have to see you eat your way through a Russell Stover's box of assorted again, it will be too soon. And seeing it come back up again is too soon in about two lifetimes.”

The grip on Phil's wrist tightened slightly then loosened as Clint smiled back at Phil, bright and hopeful. Then Clint's face turned a distinctly deeper green. “That was Thor's fault again.”

“Most things are,” Phil agreed and hauled Clint up to his feet. “Come on, looser pants and Alka Seltzer for you.”

Clint trudged along and lamented the unfairness of the world and his hatred of alien gods and their iron stomachs. The belch he let loose was impressive and Phil should not think the sulky expression on his face was cute.

Phil made a note for himself to send Clint on an op to a country that didn't celebrate Easter. Or at the very least, didn't sell chocolate bunnies and marshmallow birdies in bulk come springtime. 

Forewarning was foreplanning. 

Phil laughed to himself and followed behind Clint, hand on his back steady and sure. Clint leaned into the touch and darted a quick little smile over his shoulder at Phil. “Thanks.”

Phil kissed him lightly, tasting sugar and oranges. “Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> There were no actual destruction of gingerbread communities as a result of this fic. 
> 
> Title is shamelessly misappropriated from Sugar High from Empire Records.
> 
> Thanks to my beta Schuyler for all her help and cheerleading. :D


End file.
